


Peter's Christmas with Tony

by Rowan_M



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Protective Avengers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-18 17:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16999038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowan_M/pseuds/Rowan_M
Summary: One-shots of Peter at Christmas. Lots of whump, fluff and Iron Dad.Chapter 1:Peter gets injured putting up Christmas decorations. Steve, Bucky, Tony and Bruce help him out.(I'm very bad a summaries)





	1. On your shoulders

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, one and all to the Christmas one-shot series.  
> Most of the stories will be whumpy or fluffy, but I AM TAKING PROMPTS, so really they could be anything.  
> There's not a set number of days/chapters because I can't deal with that level of commitment, but I'm hoping to get more than 5 chapters out by Christmas.  
> Thank you.  
> Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: i am not a medical professional, there are definitely inaccuracies in this.

There was a surprisingly small number of people at the compound for it being near the festive season. Only two weeks into December, and the Avengers had dispersed out of the compound to God knows where.

Wanda had taken Vision travelling over the holiday season, so that she could educate him on European Christmas traditions and the like. Clint was at his home in the farm and had taken Natasha with him to meet up with the kids, Sam was visiting his own family in Harlem, Thor was obviously somewhere in space and Rhodey was God knows where doing work for the military. So, the only people left were the family-less; Steve, Bucky, Bruce and Tony (and Pepper – maybe Pepper counted as Tony’s family, but she was very busy with work at the moment and so wasn’t around much). And, of course, there was Peter. He came and went regularly, visiting Tony, working in the lab, just generally hanging about. Everyone had just about fallen for the boy; the way he snuggled up to Tony on movie nights and fell asleep on his lap, how he animatedly talked and talked about the simplest things for hours on end and how generally caring and compassionate he was. 

And so, Peter was looking forward to the end of school that day, number one because it was Friday, and number two because he got to go and spend the whole weekend with Tony and the other three at the compound. 

He rushed out of school the minute the bell went and spotted Happy’s car right away. Peter yelled a goodbye to Ned over his shoulder as he raced across the yard, narrowly dodging cars until he reached Happy's and flung himself into the back seat. 

Happy tutted in annoyance. “How many times have I told you to be careful of the cars around here? I don’t think Tony would appreciate it if I delivered a Peter pancake to the compound.” 

Smirking, Peter apologised with a small, “Sorry, Happy.” 

It hadn’t taken long for Happy to warm to the kid after the Homecoming incident, so Peter recognised the well-disguised worry in the man’s tone as he reprimanded Peter. 

They spent to long car ride carrying a steady conversation, Peter talking about school, and Happy telling him any funny incidents that happened to him during work this week. The journey on the whole seemed to pass quickly, and Peter was a little disappointed to wave Happy goodbye as he went off to park the car. 

FRIDAY greeted him as usual in the elevator with a cheery hello and told him that Tony was in the common room kitchen with the others (Steve, Bucky and Bruce). With a smile, Peter stepped out of the lift and took in the scene in front of him. Tony was sat on top of the kitchen counter, eating toast and watching with an amused smile as Steve and Bucky argued about where to put a ginormous Christmas tree. Bruce was sat on the floor, sorting baubles into piles according to their colour and style. 

“If you put it there it blocks the view of the TV from the kitchen,” Bucky insisted.

“You shouldn’t be watching TV in the kitchen anyway,” Steve argued. “And if you put it there it blocks the window.”

“How will I follow cooking show recipes if I can’t see the TV?” asked Bucky indignantly. “And there’s more than enough window for the tree to not make a difference.”

Tony spoke up from the kitchen, a mouth full of toast. “Just look online for the recipes – for once I agree with Steve.”

“Ha, exactly,” Steve triumphed childishly. 

“Hey,” Peter said to the room at large. All their heads snapped up to meet him with warm smiles. 

“Hey, Pete,” Tony said, jumping down from the counter-top to meet Peter. Bruce waved from near the massive pile of baubles.

“Peter,” Bucky greeted. “You’ll agree with me – do you think the tree should go there,” he pointed to a spot near the TV, “or there?” he pointed to a spot in front of the far window. 

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” Peter apologised with a shrug. “But it’s too out of the way over there, I think it should go near the TV.”

Steve cackled triumphantly, and Tony squeezed Peter's shoulder in appreciation. Bucky smouldered in disappointment.

“Okay, while you two have another domestic, we’re heading to the lab,” Tony announced to the room. “You want to come with, Bruce?”

Looking relieved, Bruce sprang to his feet and hurried to follow the pair out of the room, muttering to himself about people not putting decorations away in the correct boxes. 

In the lab, Tony let Peter help him fix the gauntlet of his armour, as it sustained some damage on their last mission. Tony loved explaining all the technical details of the glove, and loved watching Peter’s face as he soaked up the information lavishly and immediately put what he learned into action as he worked on the glove. To be honest, Tony probably didn’t have to explain it to him, he probably knew exactly how it worked already, or at least would figure it out within a few minutes of working on it. 

Peter worked greedily on the armour, while Tony designed some new features for the suit and Bruce did a write-up on an experiment he’d done. All of them worked hard, chatting occasionally as they did so, and as a ‘reward’ Tony ordered pizza for them. 

Waiting on the pizza was unbearable with Peter’s stomach rumbling loudly with each second that passed, but soon, FRIDAY was telling them that the delivery guy was at the gate, and the three of them rushed upstairs. 

Tony went to get the pizzas and pay the bill, while Bruce and Peter headed along to the common room kitchen. 

“Hey, Pete, we need your help,” Steve called to him as they entered. He and Bucky were standing at the base of a nearly decorated tree, and Steve was holding a large star in his hand. “Can you climb on my shoulders and put the star on top?”

“No need,” Bucky countered. “I already told you that Peter’s not tall enough, you need to get on my shoulders,” he said to Steve. 

Surprisingly enough, Steve looked particularly sceptical of the idea. “No thank you, I’m much to heavy.”

“I’m a super soldier,” Bucky protested. 

“So am I.”

“You don’t weigh anything.” 

“That’s a lie.”

“Fine, but Peter can go on my shoulders - I’m taller,” Bucky insisted. 

With a scoff, Steve threw the star to Peter. “Fine, but I’m definitely taller.”

“Will you two stop arguing,” Bruce sighed, rubbing a tired hand down his face. 

Steve looked sheepish, while Bucky stuck his tongue out at Bruce. Smiling, Peter approached Bucky, who knelt by the couch so that Peter could climb on easily. “Just sit until we get near the tree, otherwise you’ll fall off,” Bucky instructed. Peter gently sat on Bucky’s shoulders, the man held Peter’s knees and carefully stood up. 

“Don’t be so worried, have you ever seen a spider fall down?” Peter joked, trying to ease the tension of the room.

“You’re not fully spider, and I've seen you fall over plenty of times,” Bucky pointed out as he rounded the glass coffee table and stopped near the base of the tree. “Stand up on my shoulders now but be careful. Steve, stand behind him.”

Rolling his eyes, Peter carefully pulled his legs up and used his hands to grip Bucky’s head while he put his feet underneath him, on Bucky’s shoulders. 

“Kid, I love you, but you’re pulling my hair,” Bucky winced. 

“Sorry,” Peter mumbled as he concentrated on slowly standing from his crouch, star in hand, only wobbling slightly. He heard Bruce whisper a silent prayer. “I got this,” Peter announced as he steadied himself.

“Oh God, I leave you alone for five minutes,” Peter heard Tony curse as he entered the room and saw Peter on Bucky’s shoulders. 

“I got this,” Peter repeated.

He reached out to the top of the tree and found the tallest point was only a few centimetres out of reach. “Can you move forward any?” he asked Bucky. 

Bucky slowly shuffled forwards slightly so that his nose was almost touching the needles.

“Thanks,” Peter muttered off hand as he reached out again. Cursing his small stature, Peter readied himself before rolling onto his tiptoes to reach the top of the tree. All four  
adults cursed in unison. 

“Careful, Pete!” Tony reprimanded, before falling silent so the boy could concentrate.

Giving one final stretch, Peter managed to safely secure the star onto the top branch of the tree.

“I did it,” Peter said. 

“Okay, Steve move, I’m gonna help Peter down,” Bucky instructed sternly. 

Steve moved beside them, and Bucky shifted to get his face out of the tree. 

That tiny shift in direction was enough to throw Peter’s balance. He tried to adjust his feet to counter the movement, but Bucky’s shirt was slippery, and his foot slid forward and sent the rest of his body toppling backwards to the floor. 

Yelping in surprise, Peter half span mid air to try to lessen the impact, but found himself not falling towards the solid floor (which would hurt, but he would survive) but instead found himself heading straight for the glass coffee table. 

He didn’t have time to react, and merely stretched a hand out in hopes of lessening the impact. It was a wonder why everyone thought Peter was so clever.

Peter heard the glass shattering, then he felt the pain, then his world flashed bright white for a second as his head thudded harshly against the wooden floors. 

 

His ears rang, but he could still make out a number of people shouting his name and someone yelling for Bruce. Peter pealed his eyes open to see stars flashing before his eyes and blurred figures rushing towards him. He blinked to clear his vision and now identified the figures as Steve, Bucky, Bruce and Tony, all huddled round him with worry written across their faces. 

“Can you hear me, Peter?” Bruce asked quietly, but clearly. 

“Yeah,” Peter answered lazily.

“Can you tell me your full name?” he asked, staring intently into Peter’s eyes. 

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” Peter replied. 

Bruce smiled. “Good job.”

“Bruce, the bleeding!” Tony urged, looking concerned. 

“Bleeding?” Peter asked quietly. 

Shushing Tony, Bruce turned back to Peter with a small smile, putting a hand on either side of his face to stop him moving to look at where he was bleeding from. “It’s okay, Pete.  
Can you squeeze your… your left hand?” 

Peter frowned but squeezed his fingers into a ball. 

“Good, now can you wiggle your toes, please?” Bruce instructed. Peter obeyed. “Well done.” Bruce then turned to the others with a serious expression. “He has no serious spinal damage. We need to get him out of the glass before he starts to move and gets more hurt.” Peter snapped his head up to survey the scene. Despite how his head throbbed and span, he saw that from his shoulders to his calves, he was lying in the remains of the expensive glass table. Bruce pushed his head back down without even looking at him. “Tony, get a first aid kit and some clean cloths and be ready to start applying pressure as soon as possible.” Tony rushed off to follow out his order, not saying anything about being given instructions in his own home. “Steve, in a second you’re gonna help Pete get up and help lay him on his stomach while I get the glass from his back. Bucky you’re gonna take some deep breaths and try to stop freaking out – it wasn’t your fault – then you’re going to help Steve.”

Peter wanted to look around to see Bucky, but Bruce was still holding his head still.

Hurrying back, Tony dropped to his knees near them and handed Bruce a med-kit. Bruce opened it and withdraw tweezers and gauze. “I’m gonna do his hand first, because it’s quite deep, and as soon as the glass is out you put loads of pressure on it, okay.” Tony nodded. 

Peter made a grumble of protest as Bruce gently held Peter’s right hand and began tugging at a glass shard that had been lodged in there with the tweezers. Now that he’d recovered from the shock of falling and the hit to the head was not muting everything, he could feel every bump, bruise and broken bit of glass on his body. 

Taking Peter’s other hand and squeezing it, Steve smiled and tapped Peter’s face until he had the boy’s full attention. “Don’t watch that, kid, eyes on me,” he instructed. Peter obeyed, but then the glass was swiftly extracted, and he winced as Tony covered the wound and pressed on it hard. “Hey, hey it’s okay,” Steve assured him gently. 

“Steve, we need to get him up, now,” Bruce said in a deliberately calm voice. 

Steve dropped Peter’s hand and moved to position himself so that he could loop his hands under Peter’s armpits. 

“Bucky grab his legs,” Bruce commanded to a still pale looking Bucky. The super soldier shook from his stupor and jumped up, gripping Peter’s ankles and preparing to lift him. 

“Slowly, Steve, mind the glass,” Bruce instructed. “Okay, Pete, Steve's helping you up, but don’t move your shoulders and don’t move your legs.” 

Gently, Steve began to pull Peter up by the armpits. Peter held on to Steve’s arm with the hand that’s wasn’t wrapped in a cloth in Tony’s grip, and tried to pull himself up, but the pain of his back muscles contracting around the glass shards was unbearable, not to mention how his head was throbbing and spinning from the change in altitude. He let out a small noise of pain and discomfort and squeezed Steve’s arm as a sort of cry for help. 

“It’s okay, kid,” Steve murmured encouragingly, glancing at Tony with a look that said, ‘comfort your kid’.

“Nearly there, Pete,” Tony said quietly. “You’re doing great.”

“Set his feet down, Bucky,” Bruce instructed. Peter felt every ache and pain in his body as soon as his feet had been put on the floor. His knees buckled almost immediately, but Steve’s strong arms under his arm pits stopped him toppling forwards. “Okay, now we’re going to walk you to the sofa, don’t move your shoulders or legs too abruptly though, because it will irritate the glass there.” 

Slowly, Steve helped Peter shuffle his uncooperative legs forwards. Peter let his head roll onto Tony’s arm, where he was holding Peter’s arm above his head to keep the blood from his injured hand. 

“I got you kid,” Tony said gently.

“’M’kay,” Peter mumbled with a sloppy smile as tried to forget about his pain. 

They help Peter slowly and carefully lie down on his stomach and Bruce immediately got to work pulling glass out of the boy’s back. Tony was there, muttering reassurances the whole time, shushing him gently anytime he winced or flinched. 

Bruce employed Bucky and Steve to put pressure on the deeper wounds on his back and legs while Bruce rushed to the med bay to get supplies for stitching up the cuts. 

“Nearly there, buddy,” Tony told Peter as he began to shift uncomfortably under Steve and Bucky’s weight. 

“Too heavy,” Peter complained dazedly. “’Squishing me.”

“Only until Bruce comes back,” Steve reassured him. 

Peter huffed I annoyance but kept quiet as Bruce re-entered and began preparing to give stitches. He had to cut the back of Peter’s shirt and jeans to get good access to the injuries, and Peter complained about it being one of his favourite shirts. 

It didn’t take long for Bruce to do the stitches and steri strips, but it was highly uncomfortable, not to mention painful for Peter. 

“Bucky, can you try to keep him calm while u work? He keeps tensing his back and dislodging the needle,” Bruce asked, not looking up from where he was focused on his work. 

Though Bucky still looked pale and guilty, Tony and Steve were still both engaged in stopping the boy from bleeding out, so Bucky dutifully crouched next to the couch by Peter’s head. 

“Hey, kiddo,” Bucky greeted, somewhat awkwardly. 

“Does the s’ar look good?” Peter said, his words slurring slightly. 

Bucky blanched. “The star?” he asked incredulously.

“’s’it look good?” Peter asked again, looking at Bucky with glassy (no pun intended) eyes. 

Vaguely, Bucky glanced behind him at the top of the tree, before placing a strong hand on Peter’s shoulder. “It looks great, kid.” 

 

It didn’t take long for Bruce to finish closing the wounds – fixing his right hand was the worst of it because the glass had gone so deep, and Peter’s powers amplified the pain of every slight movement of the needle. They carefully helped him to his feet again – he was still unsteady and pale from the blood loss and concussion – and Bruce and Tony helped lead him away to get cleaned up and bandage his hand properly. 

As soon as the three of them left, Steve rounded on Bucky and engulfed him in the biggest hug in known history. 

“It’s not your fault, he’s fine,” Steve mumbled into Bucky’s hair.

Bucky didn’t say anything, but let a few silent tears slip down his face. 

 

The three returned half an hour later, with Peter being carried on Tony’s hip like a toddler, sporting loose fitting pyjamas and a heavily bandaged right hand. Steve and Bucky were huddled together on the sofa and cooed at the sight of Peter nestled into his father’s side. 

“Not a word,” Tony grit out to them as he cradled Peter lovingly. 

Bruce had apparently pumped Peter full of painkillers and anti-nausea medication, resulting in a sleepy, droopy Peter to contend with while they ate their pizzas, which Steve had put in the oven to keep warm while Bruce and Tony sorted Peter out, and watched _The Muppet Christmas Carol_. 

Bucky had mostly calmed down, but watching the kid struggle to feed himself pizza with his bandaged hand and having to keep readjusting himself to relieve pressure on the stitches on his back and legs sent a wave of guilt through Bucky. 

They’d cleaned up the remains of the table, but that didn’t stop Peter from apologising over and over to Tony for breaking his table. No matter how much Tony assured him it was fine, Peter just seemed to get more and more agitated and upset. It ended up with Tony consoling a crying Peter on his lap, running his fingers delicately through his hair until the boy finally fell asleep. 

“It’ll be the painkillers that are making him emotional,” Bruce explained. “It will have worn off by the time he wakes up.”

Tony nodded, and simply continued smoothing his hand through Peter’s hair. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky told Tony suddenly. 

Snapping his head up, Tony smiled a little. “It’s not your fault, it was an accident.” Bucky still didn’t stop looking at the bundle of teenager on Tony’s lap. “He doesn’t think it’s your fault either, you heard him have a breakdown about the table a moment ago,” Tony laughed. Bucky huffed slightly and smiled. “How about you make him waffles in the morning to clear your conscience? He’d love you forever.” 

Bucky smiled. “Okay.” 

Steve looked at him hopefully. 

“Nope, none for you, Stevie,” Bucky insisted, turning away from Steve. 

“But your waffles are the best,” Steve complained. 

“Will you two _stop arguing_ ,” Bruce implored with a sigh.

Bucky and Steve smirked at each other. 

Needless to say that when Peter woke up the next morning, he was greeted with an impossibly large pile of waffles.


	2. Baby, it's cold outside

Peter’s eye lids were heavy. His nose was blocked, his throat was raw, and he was shivering and sweating simultaneously. He was sick. 

He had been all day, and it was so tempting to go home and sleep it off after school, but it was a lab day, so Peter grit his teeth and shivered in the back of Happy’s car for forty five minutes on the way to the compound, trying to sleep but being kept awake by the pain in his throat and the ringing in his ears. So, here he was – shivering in the lab while Tony jabbered on about something or other, staring at his maths homework like it was dirt on his shoe. 

“Pete? Peter?” Tony’s voice cut through Peter’s mind and he turned around to see the man staring at him a little impatiently. “I said, Steve wants to know what you want for dinner.” 

That was another thing; Peter hasn’t eaten all day because his throat hurt too much to swallow anything, and not eating for twenty-four hours even without a super metabolism is bad enough. 

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Peter rasped, then coughed into his hand to clear his throat. 

“You’re sounding a little hoarse there, kid,” Tony frowned. “Are you feeling okay?”

Peter nodded and spun his chair back to look at his maths sheet again. Not a second later there was a cool hand on his forehead, and the temperature difference sent a hot flush over the rest of his body. 

“Whoa, you’re cooking there, kiddo,” Tony commented worriedly. “I thought you were a little quiet today – you should have told me you were sick.”

“’M not,” Peter croaked. 

“Ha, sure you aren’t,” Tony laughed. “C’mon, lets see if Bruce has any super strength fever-reducer for you.” 

He would have protested, but who can be bothered with that. Also, he did feel a bit shit, so he might as well get some medicine in him. 

Standing up, Peter’s vision suddenly wobbled dangerously before his eyes. His face felt hot, but his body felt so cold. Knee caps turning to jelly, Peter staggered forwards suddenly. An arm looped around his middle impossibly fast and stopped him face-planting the floor. The arm was joined by another and then he was on the floor, his upper half cushioned on Tony’s lap. 

“What was all that, kid?” Tony questioned, anxiety lacing his voice as he looked deeply and concernedly into Peter’s eyes. 

Peter thought back. Honestly, he didn’t know; he just got dizzy. “D’zzy,” Peter tried to explain. 

“You’re dizzy?” Tony supplied. 

“Hm,” Peter hummed in response, sniffing slightly. 

“Okay, we’ll figure this out. FRI, is Bruce on the way?” Tony asked shakily. 

“Yes, Boss,” FRIDAY answered immediately. “He was alerted of the situation as soon as Mr Parker fell.” 

“Good girl,” Tony breathed, touching his hands back to Peter’s face to see if his temperature had risen any. 

The door to the lab opened and Bruce came in timidly carrying his little doctor’s bag full of emergency equipment, just as Peter was trying to sit up in Tony’s hold. “FRIDAY said you were in a bit of a predicament.” 

Tony made a noise of affirmation. “Pete decided to have a cosy catch up with the floor.”

“Did he hit his head?” Bruce asked as he knelt beside the pair. 

“No, I caught him. He says he just got dizzy,” Tony explained. 

“’He’ is here,” Peter complained huskily. Bruce’s eyes flickered up to frown at Peter’s shitty vocal chords, before he concentrated back on taking Peter’s pulse. 

“He’s really warm as well,” Tony added, ignoring Peter. “I think he’s sick.”

Bruce frowned in concentration and pulled a thermometer from his doctor’s bag. Peter opened his mouth and let it sit under his tongue for a few seconds before Bruce took it out.

“Holy hell,” Bruce said in surprise. “You should not be up and about with a fever like that. Have you had any medicine?”

“No,” Peter grunted. 

“Have you been drinking enough?”

Peter thought about this for a second. He’d actually drunk quite a bit today in vain attempts to sooth his sore throat. “Yeah.”

Leaning forward, Bruce felt Peter’s forehead and the back of Peter’s neck; both areas were slick with sweat, and Peter shivered at the feeling of Bruce’s cold hands. Bruce then got out a small device from his bag and pricked Peter’s finger. 

“Hey,” Peter complained. 

“Peter, your blood sugar levels are dangerously low,” he stated looking down at the contraption in his hand. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Yes’erday,” Peter croaked. 

Bruce tutted, and Tony frowned. “What the hell, kid? You know you can’t go more than a few hours without eating with your metabolism.”

“I know, I didn’t…” Peter cut himself off with a series of harsh coughs. Tony had to re-position them so that Peter could sit up properly. 

“Here, let me get you something,” Bruce said, before standing up and heading to the mini-fridge in the corner of the room. 

“You didn’t feel well so you didn’t eat?” Tony asked, hi tone gentler now. Peter nodded weakly. “You should have come and told me, and we could have gotten you some meds and stuff.” 

“I didn’t want… I’m fine,” Peter protested.

Just then, Bruce came back with a tall glass of orange juice. “Okay, so you almost passed out, you have a fever high enough to put a normal person in hospital and you’re blood sugar is possibly one of the lowest levels I’ve ever seen in a person who is still conscious and not bedridden – I’d hate to see what you class as not fine,” Bruce laughed. Tony threw him a glare, probably for joking about Peter’s poor health. “Right, sorry…. Drink this,” he handed Peter the orange juice. He drank it slowly because each cold mouthful hurt his throat more and more. “How about we get you upstairs and find some meds?”

Tony hauled Peter up by the armpits before he had time to ready himself, and immediately had to loop Peter’s arm over his shoulder to stop him toppling straight back to the floor in another rush of vertigo. 

“Whoa,” Peter drawled, blinking lazily. “No’ so fast, please.” 

“Sorry, kid,” Tony apologised immediately. 

The orange juice must have helped a lot, because after that first wobble, he was practically fine while they headed to the med bay, except for the constant coughing and shivering. They reached the med bay and Bruce went off to find their stock of medicines while Tony situated Peter on a bed – he immediately tried to get out again. 

“I don’t wonna-” he broke off to cough. “I don’t want to stay here.”

“It’s just while we get you some super-soldier medicine, then we can get you some proper food and get you into bed,” Tony told him. 

“Does Captain America get sick?” Peter asked hoarsely.

Tony laughed. “No, but Bucky does. It’s because he had a different serum to Steve, and it didn’t boost his immune system like it did for Steve.”

“Here,” Bruce said, coming back into the room with an array of bottles and (to Peter’s horror) fresh, packaged needles. “Lucky we got a fresh batch of this stuff for the winter season. It’s all super strength meds, so hopefully your metabolism won’t go straight through it.” 

“Speaking of,” Tony interjected. “FRIDAY, will you tell Cap to make Peter extra of whatever he’s making for dinner.”

Peter shook his head. “But it hurts to swallow things.” 

“You haven’t eaten since yesterday, Peter,” Tony pointed out.

“How a bout I give you something to soothe your throat right before you eat?” Bruce offered. Peter considered this for a moment before nodding. “Good, okay I’m going to inject a fever-reducer so that it can get working as quickly as possible, but it is probable that I’ll have to give you another shot later on if your temperature peaks again.” 

Tensing slightly at the mention of needles, Peter squirmed and shook as Bruce put on gloves and asked Peter to take his jumper off. Tony noticed his unease and moved to help him get out of his oversized sweater, and immediately took his sweaty kid’s hand in his own.

“You’ll be okay, Pete, you’ll hardly feel it,” Tony said gently. Peter gulped drily as Bruce cleaned the top of his arm, where the needle was going to go in.

“I’m guessing you’re not a fan of needles,” Bruce guessed with a guilty look. Shaking his head firmly, Peter shuffled across the bed, closer to Tony. “It’s okay. Don’t be embarrassed, just take your mind off things – concentrate on Tony.”

Tony squished himself onto the bed next to Peter and looped an arm around his neck to guide his head and line of sight away from the injection site. “Yeah, kid, you need to be thinking about what film we’re going to watch after dinner.”

“I get to choose?” Peter squeaked happily, looking up at Tony excitedly. 

Giving Bruce a thumbs up behind Peter’s back, Tony smiled at his sick kid. “Of course. Sick kids get special privileges.”

Bruce slipped the needle into Peter’s arm and compressed the plunger. Flinching, Peter inhaled sharply, the air rattling in his lungs, and turned his head into Tony’s chest. 

“It’s okay, buddy, it’s over now,” Tony assured him, carding fingers through the hair on the back of Peter’s head. 

“Well done, Peter,” Bruce commended as he held a ball of cotton wool to where the needle had pierced. 

“Can we watch The Polar Express?”

***

Peter stayed curled into Tony while Bruce fed him disgusting medicine to help his throat and monitored his fever. 

“Captain Rogers would like me to inform you that dinner is ready in the communal area,” FRIDAY said. 

Tony helped Peter, who was slightly dozy from the fever and meds according to Bruce, walk through the compound to the dining area. 

“What’s up with the kid?” Bucky asked worriedly as he spotted Tony, Bruce and a pale looking Peter entering the room. 

“Peter’s sick,” Tony told them. “We had to tap into your med supply, sorry Buckaroo.” 

Bucky took a moment to glance at Peter looking so soft and vulnerable before giving a lopsided smile. “You are forgiven.” 

Peter sat next to Tony at the table, who piled a mountain of pasta on the kid’s plate. 

“Leave some for everyone else,” Peter croaked hoarsely. 

“It’s fine, kid, I made extra for you anyway,” Steve assured him. 

The huge plate of pasta was demolished, not as quickly as usual, but that wasn’t for lack of trying. (“Slow down, Peter, or you’ll make yourself puke,” Bruce warned. 

“’M hungry,” Peter protested.)

After dinner, all of them crowded on the sofas to watch The Polar Express on the TV. Peter buried himself into Tony’s hold, but always remembered to turn away and cover his mouth when he coughed. Soon, he was fast asleep, breathing loudly and heavily through his blocked nose and sore throat, but managing to feel peaceful with his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2!
> 
> I feel a little bit bad posting this because I recently witnessed someone pass out, and it is genuinely really serious. Please look after yourself guys!  
> Anyway, please send prompts if you can I really need inspiration to write!!  
> Thank you,  
> -Rowan


	3. Away in a manger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets drugged while on patrol.

Patrolling at Christmas time was always… interesting.

There was still a surprising amount of crime near Christmas, including a group of people dressed as elves robbing a jewellery store, a street fight involving two men dressed as Santa, and a gang of ‘sexy’ Mrs Clauses’ causing drunken mayhem in the street… and it was only December 20th. 

 

“And remember,” Peter called over his shoulder to a bunch of men all webbed up to the walls of an alley near the shop they’d been robbing. “Low budget Christmases are possible without stealing. Merry Christmas, guys.”

Peter scaled the wall of the next building and raced across the rooftop and leapt to the next. He shivered slightly as he ran, the cold of the nights was starting to bother him, even with the heater in his suit on. He’d been meaning to speak to Mr Stark about making the suit more insulating or raising the maximum temperature of the heater, but in the rush of finishing school and Christmas shopping and visiting friends, it had slipped his mind. 

“It’s getting late, Karen,” Peter noted as he leapt and swing from a building. “How about one more stop on the way home? Is anything coming up on the scanners.” 

Now that Peter was on his Christmas break, his curfew had been extended to 2am. This still seemed early, but with the cold weather seeping in and making the nights unbearably chilly, even criminals were wrapped up toastily in bed by that time anyway. 

“There is nothing coming up in the local area at the moment, Peter,” Karen told him. 

Peter sighed, and contented himself with some aerial acrobatics between swings to amuse himself. He stopped with graceful ease on the roof of a building and looked down at the city below. 

“What about those guys?” Peter asked, pointing to a small huddle of men in the opening of an alleyway. “They look pretty sketchy.”

“Running facial scans,” Karen said. After a moment’s pause, she spoke again. “Two of them have criminal records for possession of illegal substances. The forensics team found failed attempts at making new recreational drugs at their apartment when it was searched.”

“Awesome,” Peter breathed as he watched the two guys show their small audience a bag of something or other. “Well, not awesome, but it’s cool that I get to bust a drug deal.”

“I can neither agree nor disagree with you Peter,” Karen said simply. 

“Right,” Peter nodded. He took a readying breath before he shot a web and swung down to land next to the group of men. “Sorry, to interrupt.”

All of them turned to face Peter and froze for a moment, the little bag of pale blue powder still in one of the men’s hands. The hesitation was enough time to begin webbing up the criminals’ feet, but soon they started to scatter. He managed to web most of them up somehow, but the one carrying the drugs made a break for the main street leading off the alleyway.

Peter leapt to the wall and bounced off to block the entrance of the alley. The man yelped, but brought his hands in front of him and squeezed the bag tightly so that it popped. A cloud of fine blue powder rose from the burst bag and Peter was inhaling it before he could even react. 

It tasted disgusting in his mouth and he coughed violently in a vain attempt to expel it. He vaguely saw the man try to rush passed him through his teary eyes and shot a few lazily aimed webs. Thankfully, one hit it’s mark and the man’s arms were webbed to the wall. 

“K-Karen,” Peter stuttered through harsh coughs. “Can y-you no-notify the po-lice please?” 

He staggered sideways as his vision tunnelled and his legs wobbled. Something in his brain told him to move forwards, so he stumbled along the deserted street, holding onto the wall for stability.

“Of course, Peter. You appear to have inhaled a large amount of an unknown substance, would you like me to inform Mr Stark that you need assistance?”

‘Mr Stark’ seemed to be the only words that permeated the fog in Peter’s brain and his wobbly legs began slowly walking him in the vague direction of the compound. 

“Call, M-Mr S’ark please, Karen,” Peter mumbled sleepily. While the dial tone rang, Peter realised how uncomfortably sticky he was from the deathly heat. “Please turn the he-heat’r off.” The heater stopped, and Peter sighed. “I love you,” he told Karen. 

“Aww, kid you’re killing me,” familiar voice said in his ears.

“T-Tony!” Peter practically squealed, and promptly fell over a bag of junk on the street and face-planted the floor with a small grunt.  
Tony sighed, or maybe it was the wind. “Careful, kiddo. Did you want to call me at 2am just to tell me you loved me or was it something else?”

Peter coughed harshly and wetly when he tried to reply. 

“Sheesh, kid. Are you sick?” Tony asked sounding concerned. 

Shaking his head, Peter picked himself up from the ground and carried on stumbling across the pavement, not really knowing where he was. 

“Kid?”

“I said no,” Peter replied, his words slurring.

“Firstly, no you didn’t. Secondly, are you drunk?” Tony asked, sounding stern. 

Peter considered this for a moment. He’d never been drunk, but he imagined this is similar to what it felt like, but this was definitely hotter and more uncomfortable than he expected. Plus, he can’t remember drinking anything. 

“No,” he told Tony firmly. 

There was something in his brain, stopping him from thinking properly and it was starting to annoy him. At first it was nice because he felt floaty and light like he did when they gave him pain killers in the med bay. But now, it was frustrating because he needed to tell Tony something, but he couldn’t figure out what.

He heard Tony quietly ask FRIDAY to collect data from the suit to figure out what was wrong with Peter, but he ignored it in favour of bending his neck back looking high up into the sky. Like always in New York the sky was polluted with the bright glow of all the lights that masked the stars. Peter huffed impatiently.

“I don’t want it to be bright,” he mumbled to himself. An idea popped into his head, and he shut his eyes tight and watched the weird colours bursting behind his eyelids; this was close enough to stars to satisfy Peter. 

“What’s that, kiddo?” Tony asked. Peter forgot what he’d said and didn’t reply. “Okay, never mind then. Karen says you inhaled something you shouldn’t have and it’s messing you up, does that sound familiar?”

Truth be told; no, it did not sound familiar. Peter scrunched his eyes up more to concentrate on remembering. “Blue…. Blue cloud,” he muttered, remembering the powder that had gone in his face and left a sour taste in his mouth. 

“Blue cloud?” Tony asked, then there was a loud sound on his side of the phone that sounded like rockets. “I’ve got your location and I’m coming to pick you up, okay kid? You just stay on the line and keep talking to me okay?”

“Yessir.”

“Tell me about what you did today?” Tony asked. 

Peter hummed, struggling to cast his mind back to remember. “Ned,” he said at last. 

“You saw, Ned? What did you two-”

Peter didn’t hear the last of Tony’s question because suddenly the ground was gone from beneath his feet and he was falling. He tumbled and span in the air and his brain vaguely told him that he was hitting steps as he went down, but he was preoccupied with feeling the fog swirling in his brain. The momentum of the fall cut suddenly as he slammed hard into the floor, and he let out a pitiful cry of pain. 

“What was that? Kid are you okay? Peter, can you hear me?” Tony sounded worried. Maybe he should answer. He should probably open his eyes as well now. 

“I closed my eyes,” Peter said around weak, wet coughs. 

“And?” Tony encouraged anxiously. 

“F-fell,” he rasped. “Stairs.”

Tony cursed loudly, and Peter flinched. The rocket sound got louder. “I’m coming, Peter. Just stay there okay?”

Stay there? Peter didn’t even know where he was. Oh yeah, he was going to open his eyes. That sounded like a good idea. 

He pealed back his eyelids and looked around carefully. The steep steps he’d fallen down were to his right, and to his left was a tall building with a pointy spire. It was lit brightly with fairy lights and the windows were colourful with stained glass. It was pretty. 

Peter hadn’t noticed before, but the city was very quiet. When he tuned out the noises of Tony’s rockets and his anxious utterances, he couldn’t hear any cars or trains nearby.   
Wanting to see where he was, Peter struggled to his feet, ignoring the aches and pains in his body from the fall. He was drawn towards the tall building, and hobbled slowly and tiredly towards it. There was a name for this sort of building, but his brain wouldn’t tell him what it was.

“Kid, I can hear you moving, and I told you not to,” Tony’s impatient voice pierced trough Peter’s skull. 

“Shhhh,” Peter said, putting his hands over his ears, which apparently didn’t work because Tony spoke again just as loudly.

“You’re drugged so I’m going to let you off for shushing me, but I really need you to sit down somewhere and stop moving about before you fall again or walk into traffic.” He sounded less impatient this time and more worried, so Peter was inclined to obey his mentor’s orders. 

“’kay,” Peter said and looked around. Moving his head made him dizzy, and his knees felt a little weak from standing. He was nearer to building now, and there was a lit area to his left with something that looked like a bench. Peter’s eyes and brain were too fuzzy to make out any of the shapes properly, but he collapsed down into the bench shaped object anyway and almost immediately fell asleep.

 

Cold hands shook his arms gently. 

“Kid.” 

Where they talking to him? It sounded like the voice was a long way away. 

“Peter?” 

Oh. That was his name. 

“Who is it?” Peter said in a slurred breath. 

He heard a laugh, and then cold arms scooped under his back and knees. 

“It’s Tony. I’m going to take you to the compound and we’re going to fix you, okay? Can you open your eyes for me?”

Peter didn’t want to, but he did. His eyelids parted, and he saw a clear night sky over head, he also felt the wind hitting against his body, making him shiver.

“Stars,” Peter said happily. 

“Yeah, buddy,” Tony said with a laugh. “Do you reckon you can count them?”

“One, three... two, four…” Peter’s eyelids slid closed again and he knew nothing but darkness. 

 

Then there was noise. Beeps and bangs and voices, either shouting or whispered but never in between. 

Then there was sensation, hands on his arms and torso and head, and his mouth was being moved and his tongue was swabbed, things pierced his skin. 

Then he was awake. And he hated it. 

People were crowding him, and he knew them, but he didn’t know how he knew them. And he knew they were talking but he didn’t know what they were saying. So, he cried – because what else could he really do. 

 

Tony’s POV.

“He’s awake,” Bruce tells them, and all of them in the room snapped to attention and surged forwards. Steve and Bucky crowded one side of the bed and Tony stood at the foot, watching as Peter’s eyelids flutter open and he struggles to take in his surroundings. 

The poor kid is hooked up to all sorts of machines and IVs, as well as a cannula under his nose to help him breathe. He looks terrified, but Tony lets out a relieved sigh that he is awake only an hour after Tony picked him up. Peter had passed out half way to the compound and his breathing had gone nuts as he shook and shivered in Tony’s arms. Bruce had to inject him with muscle relaxant and had him on an oxygen mask for a while, but the boy still looked jittery and fragile. 

“Peter, can you hear me?” Bruce asked quietly. 

Without a word, Peter burst into tears. All three men around his bed recoiled at having scared the kid, but Tony took the opportunity to move next to Peter and take his small hand in his own. 

“Hey, buddy, it’s okay,” Tony said quietly, while moving into Peter’s eye line. “We’ve got you now, you’re going to be okay.”

“I… I don’t know what happened,” Peter sobs. He reaches up to rub tears from his face and notices his hand is bandaged. 

“That’s okay,” Tony says. “You accidentally breathed in some drugs, then you fell down some steps and went to sleep in a nativity scene outside a church about a mile out of the city.”

“Huh,” Peter notes confusedly. “I don’t remember.” 

Bruce steps forward. “That’s normal. The drugs were homemade and very strong, they seemed to put you into a sort of trance, so you might have lost time in some places,” he told them. “You also fractured your wrist and broke several ribs when you fell down the steps, as well as hitting your head.”

“Only you…” tony sighed, but ruffled Peter’s hair fondly anyway. 

 

Tony and Bruce stayed with Peter while Bucky and Steve went to got them all food. Peter was very hungry and still jittery and loopy from the drugs. Bruce said he was on a come-down from the high and would probably feel better in the morning. 

Steve and Bucky brought back pizza and they all sat around or on Peter’s bed to eat it – it was three in the morning and they’d all been woken up by Tony’s frantic call that Peter had been drugged, so they were more than entitled to having Pizza as a mid-night snack. 

Then, the cherry on the cake, Tony showed them all a picture from his suit’s camera of Peter as spider-man fast asleep in a life-sized nativity scene, sprawled in the manger while statues of Mary, Joseph, shepherds and angels watched on. 

That was definitely the picture Tony was going to put on this year’s Christmas cards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this was a little rushed and I was noticeably very sleep deprived when I wrote this, but I thought it was okay at least.   
> Thank you for spending the time to read it, hope you enjoyed it!!


	4. Walking (getting hypothermia) in a winter wonderland!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter doesn't like the cold - the cold doesn't like Peter. Ft. two super soldiers acting like the world's biggest 'Dads'.

People might be under the impression that Peter Parker was a genius. They would be wrong.

Well, not wrong, per say; he definitely had a genius level IQ, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he was particularly clever in all aspects of life. And common sense was definitely not his strong point. 

Hence, Peter was currently freezing his butt off on patrol while it was snowing, even though he was fully aware that the spider bite had caused him to inherit an inability to thermoregulate. In Peter’s defence, he struggled to tell when he went from just being cold to actually suffering from hypothermia since he never shivered (because that counts as thermoregulation).

So, Peter was out swinging about the city as snow fell heavily around him, making things slippery and impairing his vision. He knew he was very cold, but he didn’t appreciate just how bad he was until he landed in a building and his knees collapsed beneath him and he fell face first into a bank of snow. 

Peter let out a muffled cry of shock and rolled himself out of the snow.

“K-Karen, c-can you-you put the he-heater up please?” he asked, his face and jaw stiff from the cold.

“I’m sorry, Peter, the heater is already at the maximum temperature,” Karen replied. “May I suggest that you call for help, as are exhibiting signs of hypothermia.”

“Oh,” Peter sighed. “C-can you call Tony please, K-Karen?”

There was a pause. “Mr Stark is currently in an important business meeting and his phone is not to be rung unless it is an emergency. Would you like me to force the call?”  
Peter couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that Tony didn’t answer, but he didn’t want to disturb the man just because he was a little cold. 

“No, thanks, Karen,” Peter replied, rolling into a smaller ball to conserve heat. “Can yo-you call Dr Banner please? He’ll know what to do.”

“Calling Dr Bruce banner,” Karen announced. 

_“Hi, Peter. Is everything okay?”_ Bruce’s voice asked over the phone line. 

“Yeah,” Peter lied – he felt like he was dying. “I’m okay, b-but Karen say I-I have hypothermia.”

_“What?!”_

Peter winced at Bruce’s yell. 

_“FRIDAY, get me vitals from Peter’s suit.”_ There was the sound of movement and then a curse. _“Okay, this is not ideal, Peter. Steve and Bucky are in the city right now, not far from you, so I’m going to send him your location and they’ll come to pick you up.”_

“He doesn’t have to, I’m fine,” Peter said through a yawn and a cough. 

_“No arguing, Pete, you need to get warmed up right now or things will only get worse.”_

Peter whined but didn’t argue any further, warming up did sound like a good idea right now. “’m’kay.”

 _“Good. Steve and Bucky aren’t far away, they’ll be there in a few minutes. Do you think you can stay awake until then?”_ Bruce asked, sounding reassuring but worried. Peter hummed in affirmation. _“Okay, good. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve got Tony for Christmas?”_

“It’s a secret,” Peter said quietly. 

Bruce laughed a little but didn’t push it. _“What’s your favourite Christmas movie, then? I’m sure that’s not a secret.”_

“I like all of them,” Peter admitted. 

_“Top three,”_ Bruce provoked.

Taking a second to think, Peter rubbed at his tired eyes through his mask. “I… I like the Muppet Christmas Carol … and Home Alone… and…” Peter couldn’t really remember what he was trying to think of, the words kept slipping from his brain. 

_“Come on, keep going kid they’re nearly there. One more Christmas movie,”_ Bruce encouraged, though anxiety laced his voice. 

There was a sound like a car slamming on the breaks on the street below and Peter thought he heard Bruce tell someone that Peter was on the roof, but he was too busy thinking of Christmas films.

“Um… Polar Express. That one’s my favourite,” he told Bruce sleepily. 

_“I like that one too, good job, Pete. Bucky and Steve are just finding a way to the top of the building to come and get you, so I’m going to hang up now so that I can get the living room all nice and cosy for you.”_

“’kay,” Peter said in reply, then listened for the small beep that indicated Bruce had hung up.

Listening closely, ignoring the soft thumps of snow falling around him, Peter heard ragged breathing and rushed footsteps approaching. 

Shifting slightly in the snow, Peter looked towards the far side of the roof top and saw Steve and Bucky emerge over the top and rush towards him. 

“Kid, you okay?” Steve asked somewhat stupidly to the hypothermic teen beneath them.

“Yeah, just cold,” Peter told them.

Bucky wasted no time in taking off his jacket and wrapping it securely around Peter’s shoulders. 

“Steve, go start the car and get it warmed up,” Bucky instructed. Steve rushed back over the side of the roof, while Bucky carefully scooped the barely conscious teen into his arms and tucked Peter’s head into his neck. 

Bucky was so delightfully warm that Peter let out a contented sigh and buried himself further into Bucky’s chest. 

“I know, buddy,” Bucky cooed gently, rubbing his thumb along Peter’s shoulder blade. 

As carefully as he could, Bucky slowly made his way down the fire escape at the back of the building, being extra cautious not to slip on the ice that had formed across the steps. At the bottom, through blurry eyes, Peter saw a large black range rover that Happy usually drove to carry out his chauffeur duties. Steve hopped out of the front seat and opened the back door. Bucky clambered in with Peter still in his arms. He did his best to prop Peter up in the middle seat and fastened a seat belt around him. 

The car started and Steve speedily, yet legally, drove them back to the compound. Peter leaned heavily against Bucky, who had his strong arms wrapped tightly around the boy, rubbing up and down on his arms and back in hoping to improve the circulation and bring some heat back into his bones. 

Steve and Bucky kept up a steady stream of chatter throughout the journey, probably in the vain hope of keeping Peter awake, though the teen paid no mind to what was being said and merely hummed in response when asked anything. 

All too soon the car was rolling to a stop and the doors were opened again and the rejuvenating warmth was plagued with frosty air. Peter let out a sorrowful groan of disappointment and pain as the cold took refuge in his bones once again. 

“I know, I know, it’s okay,” Bucky soothed him as he helped the floppy teen out of the car. “We’ll warm you up soon enough.”

It really couldn’t be soon enough. Peter struggled to keep his eyes open in the elevator ride up to the living room on the communal floor, and Bucky shook him vigorously when he let his eyes slip shut for a few seconds. 

The living room was the epitome of warmth. Peter had dreamed of places as warm as this on cold winter nights under his crappy duvet in queens. It even smelt of warmth.

“Here, put him on the sofa,” Bruce instructed as he marched over with a hot water bottle and a mug of hot chocolate. 

Bucky gently laid the spider-kid on the sofa and pulled his mask off of his head. The suit itself was, thankfully, dry thanks to the heater, so there would be no awkward undressing in front of the avengers. Steve helped Peter guide his stiff limbs into a jumper and sweat pants over his suit before sitting next to the boy and wrapping him in many blankets. Bucky sat on his other side and pulled the teen back towards his chest and held him while Bruce checked his pulse and temperature. 

When Bruce deemed him officially ‘out-of-the-danger-zone’ they took a few layers of blankets off and helped him drink the last of his hot chocolate, before finally allowing him to fall asleep in a perfect super-soldier-sandwich. Peter let out a sleepy sigh of thanks before drifting off. 

Tony returned from his meeting an hour later to see his kid asleep, tucked tightly into Bucky’s lap with his legs splayed across Steve. The Polar Express was playing quietly in the background as the three of them slept soundly. Bruce shrugged at Tony and whispered, “What can I say? Those two have fallen for him.” 

“They sure have,” Tony sighed, leaning over and stroking the hair from Peter’s eyes. “He’s adorable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas Eve Eve!!  
> You're early present is... Peter with hypothermia and lots of fluffy soppy stuff!! *yay*  
> So, I hope you enjoyed it! please leave a comment to tell me what you think!  
> There may or may not be another Chapter before the Big Day, hopefully there will be but that'd mean I have to think of a plot, write the story, edit it and upload it in about 24 hours, as well as maybe sleep for once and live a normal life and see my family? - but who cares about priorities right now! It's Christmas - who cares!   
> (also i literally finished this chapter (and by finished i mean wrote about 3/4 of it) and edited it in the last 30 minutes so there will definitely be mistakes but we are on a time limit here, only two days till the Big Day - so quality content can just be on hold for the time being)  
> So, if i don't upload again before the 25th then HAPPY CHRISTMAS - if i do... HAPPY CHRISTMAS EVE EVE, see you soon!!


	5. A perfect Christmas?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter goes to the Compound for Christmas.

Tony just wanted Christmas to be good. Perfect was too much to ask for, so good would have to do. 

Everything was set, ready for Operation Amazing Christmas (as he’d got FRIDAY to name it) to begin. Tony and Pepper had made sure that the whole company was shut from the 24th to the 26th to ensure that everyone got a well-deserved break. Steve and Bucky had got enough food the feed a small country, even though only four of them would be eating Christmas dinner. Bruce had been invited along to the Barton’s family farm to spend time with Natasha. All was in place for the best, if maybe quietest, Christmas the compound had ever seen.

Then things started to fall apart. Pepper’s family got back from their vacation early to surprise her, and so she felt obliged to spend Christmas with them. The problem was that they absolutely hated Tony and World War three was almost started the last time they were in the same house. So, now Pepper was going to be leaving on Christmas Eve to visit her family and wasn’t coming back until the 26th. 

Then, on Christmas Eve EVE, Tony received a panicked call from May Parker. She and Peter had been planning on flying out to Italy for Christmas to visit May’s family, whom Peter had never met. Peter had said a thousand times that he would be fine flying there, but apparently as soon as May told him to go pack a suitcase, he’d almost passed out from a panic attack. May deemed him unfit to travel, and Tony wholeheartedly agreed. Peter being Peter had insisted that May go without him. So, May relented and sold Peter’s ticket to a friend of hers, and was now calling Tony to politely beg him to have Peter for Christmas. 

Some would say that having and angsty, anxious teen around for Christmas would not be pleasurably, but Peter was Tony’s favourite angsty, anxious teen, so he agreed immediately. 

Peter arrived on Christmas Eve, just as Pepper was leaving. Bucky seemed over the moon that Peter was spending the holidays with them and instantly went from moody ex-soldier to festive-domestic-God. He made cookies and tidied the whole of the communal floor, lighting candles in every room until the scent of Christmas spice became over-bearing. 

Tony decided that while Peter was still anxious from the fact that May was still on her flight, he didn’t need to be around the big-festive-energy of Steve and Bucky too much for the time being. He took Peter to the lab in hopes of distracting him, but the boy’s hands were shaky, he was hardly talking, and he kept glancing at his phone to see if May was contacting him. Tony sighed at the fact that May wasn’t going to be landing until six this evening, so Peter was probably going to be like this all afternoon. 

He sent a subtle text to Steve, imploring him to help him make Peter have some fun after lunch. 

Steve replied within a minute, saying they’d do some ‘training games’, and that Bucky was making sandwiches as they spoke. 

 

As they ate, Tony shot them a ‘see what I mean’ look as Steve and Bucky observed the kid gloomily eat his sandwich. Bucky seemed to make it his personal mission to cheer Peter up. 

“Hey, do you want to join us for some training, Peter?” Steve asked as they cleared away the plates. 

Peter perked up a little, but his eyes weren’t as bright as Tony was used to seeing them. “Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, why don’t you get changed into something more suitable for training and meet us in the gym in half an hour?” Steve suggested. Peter nodded and hopped from his chair to go and get changed. “What’s up with him?” Steve asked Tony quietly once Peter was gone. 

Tony sighed. “He’s sort of upset that he didn’t go with May to Italy, but he’s also scared because May is on her flight right now.”

“Is he scared of flying?” Bucky asked. “Hasn’t he been on the quinjet with you before though?”

“He’s mostly scared of planes, but he’s not a massive fan of the quinjet either.” Tony lowered his voice, wary of Peter’s enhanced hearing. “Peter’s parents died in a plane crash when he was five, so naturally he’s anxious for May right now.”

Steve and Bucky looked shocked. 

“Poor kid,” Steve muttered, almost sub-consciously.

 

Peter changed into an old jumper and sweat pants and wandered lamely to the gym. He couldn’t help but fidget with his phone in his pocket, anxious to hear news of May’s journey, even though he knew she wouldn’t land for hours yet. 

In the gym, he found the three adults carrying equipment out if the store cupboard. 

“What are we doing?” Peter asked as he approached. 

“Laser tag,” Steve answered, handing Peter a vest and gun. 

“Cool,” Peter exclaimed, already cheering up slightly. 

Tony smiled at him. 

“We’re going to be in teams of two, me and Tony versus you and Bucky,” Steve explained. “The rules are that you can use the whole compound apart from the labs and the office spaces, if you get hit your vest is dead for 30 seconds, and you can’t ask FRIDAY for help under any circumstances unless it is an emergency. In a few minutes FRIDAY will put all the lights out apart from safety lights and both teams will have three minutes to hide and set up before the game begins.”

Peter nodded and checked his phone again before following Bucky towards the main door, whereas Steve and Tony headed towards the fire door. 

“Listen kid,” Bucky said gently, looking down at Peter kindly. “If you want out, just let me know, we won’t mind.” 

Peter nodded again. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’m good for now.”

“Ready?” Steve called from across the room. Peter did a thumbs up at them and the lights immediately shut off. 

“C’mon,” Bucky encouraged, and he jogged off down the corridor. 

“Where are we going?” Peter asked as he rushed to keep up. 

“Shhh,” he replied with a smile. “There’s ears everywhere.”

 

They eventually ended up in Tony’s private suite, which Peter had a room in obviously, on the very top floor of the compound.

“It’s like a vantage point,” Bucky said as he tossed his gun on the sofa and headed straight to the kitchenette. “It’ll take them ages to find us.”

 

Not ten minutes later, Peter began to hear hushed voices and light footsteps approaching the suite.

“They’re here,” he told Bucky hurriedly. Bucky stuffed the last of his pb&j in his mouth and grabbed his gun.

“Stick to the plan,” he said quietly as he ducked behind the kitchen island. Peter hurried through the rooms to the emergency exit and climbed out of the window before perching   
just below the frame thanks to his sticky appendages, obeying the half thought out plan they’d made.

Peter listened closely to the sound of muffled shouts and tells from the main body of the suite, followed by a pair of heavy footsteps coming his way. He peered over the window frame to see Bucky come passed with a sly smile and a thumbs up to tell Peter he got them. Grinning, Peter made sure he was unseen as Bucky rushed off to their rendezvous. More footsteps came his way and Peter took aim at the doorway. Steve came barrelling through, and his vest had just popped back into life when Peter took the shot. The vest beeped and the lights died.

The Captain cursed and whirled around on the spot to look for Peter. Releasing his sticky hold, Peter dropped to the roof platform a few feet beneath him and ran to the window near the edge, which Bucky threw open from within just in time for Peter to slide through. 

“That was awesome!” Peter cried as he picked himself off the floor and dusted off his clothes.

“Did they both come after me?” Bucky asked, absently checking over Peter to make sure he wasn’t injured. 

“Only Steve, they must have split up,” Peter replied.

“Ha, I knew they’d do that, any excuse to get away from eachother,” Bucky laughed.

“Do they still not like each other?”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “Well, they're friends again, but both of them like to think of themselves as the alpha, so they clash and argue a lot. Now, what we have to do is to stick together for the time being – that way it’l be two against one in our favour if we find one of them.”

It didn’t take long to find Steve again, who was disarmed by Peter but not before he got Bucky. 

“Go!” Bucky yelled as they both ran off, Steve not far behind. Counting the thirty seconds in his head, Peter slowed as he got to the late-twenties and jumped in the air, flipping upside down and gripping the ceiling with one hand and hitting Steve with the laser jet with the other.

“Nice one, Pete,” Bucky congratulated as Peter caught back up and they both dipped off into a narrow hallway in the hopes of evading Steve… and ran right into Tony.   
Peter, thinking quickly, ducked behind Bucky and watched as his teammate's vest lights went off, and then immediately shot Tony and rushed passed him. 

“Traitor,” both Tony and Bucky shouted at the same time. 

***

“Well, FRIDAY says you two won but I’m pretty sure Peter did most of the heavy lifting,” Steve said hours later after they’d all tidied away their vest and guns and were now sat around the kitchen table while Bucky prepared dinner. 

Bucky swatted at Steve with a wash cloth. “No food for you,” he insisted grumpily. 

Peter sat beside Tony and silently bit his nails in anxiety, his phone sat right in front of him on the table. The laser tag had been a good distraction, but now his worries seemed to   
bombard him and become over powering. 

“Give that a rest for a minute, buddy,” Tony said, gently tugging Peter’s hand away from his mouth, where he’d completely obliterated his nails. “Everything’s okay.”

It’s not, Peter’s brain told him. It’s long passed six o’clock and there’s no news from May. Anything could have happened. She could be dead for all he knew – or dying alone somewhere in a plane wreck. Or – 

Peter’s phone buzzed to life with May’s name popping up on screen. Glancing at Tony for a split second, Peter snatched the phone up like it was threatening to run away and slid off the kitchen stool. 

“May?” he asked, halfway out the room. “Good… I’m fine, are you? … Good…” then Peter walked out the door and Tony could hear no more. 

Not being able to help himself, Tony turned to Bucky and Steve with a grin on his face. “Thank you for your help.” 

“It’s no problem,” said Bucky, wearing a matching smile as he dished out leaving, leaving a serving in the pots for Peter to keep it warm. 

***

It was as though a different person had come back to the room after Peter had spoken to May. He ate his dinner with vigour and spoke a mile a minute to any of them that’d listen. 

An hour later, Peter was curled up as close to Tony as physically possible on the sofa as Home Alone played on the TV. His gentle hands gripped Tony’s shirt tightly while Tony gently worked the stress-induced kinks out of the teens back with one hand.

Even though Tony was without Pepper, and Peter was without May, the two had each other to rely on and support. They were good for each other. Neither of them were perfect, so good would have to do. At the end of the day, when all was said and done, there was no doubt that Tony had become more than a mentor to Peter. He was the teens support system – his dad. And to Tony, Peter had become a beacon of hope – sometimes the only light that could break through the darkness in Tony’s mind.   
So yeah, it was going to be a good Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS!!  
> Ha ha, let's pretend that this is not a day late - I actually had it all written and ready yesterday, but i fell asleep before i got a chance to upload it.  
> I hope you all had a magical day yesterday, whether you celebrated Christmas or not!  
>  Thank you for your support on this fic, I hope you enjoyed it!  
> My new multi-chapter fic will probably be posted in the new year, so keep your eyes pealed!!


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